By G.D. Maxwell
I’m glad I’m not Whistler Blackcomb. Or is it Whistler-Blackcomb? Or Whistler/Blackcomb? It’s not the name confusion thing that makes me glad I’m not… whatever, although it does underscore the pitfalls of both mergers and marriages in an age when people can’t make up their minds to go with one name or the other but still have enough sense to not undertake a rebranding exercise that leaves them with a name of uncertain origin that sounds suspiciously like a rogue biology experiment gone bad.
I’m glad I’m not those guys – gender inclusive – because they’re scratching their collective brains right now trying to figure out THE FUTURE OF SKIING. Of course, it’s not the future of skiing , it’s the future of…. It’s the future of…. See, here’s one of the basic problems with the exercise. What do you call what happens on Whistler and Blackcomb and all the other highly developed mountains where people come to play?
Snow sports? Wow, there’s a moniker that has all the appeal of gum disease. Skibbing? Too cute by a kilometre. Mountain culture? I can feel the fungus growing beneath my high-tech, no-smell long underwear. Skiing and riding or skiing and boarding? Too exclusive in a rapidly changing landscape and too much of a mouthful to say, unless you’re a writer who gets paid by the word.
In his story in last week’s Pique , Andrew Mitchell, who’s wise beyond his years, uses the word ‘skiing’ when left to his own devices. He refers to " skier visits", "…see how skiers were distributed…", " ski industry." Andrew’s not a guy to be trifled with and clearly has either made up his mind, hasn’t given the subject much thought, or doesn’t get paid by the word. I suspect his predisposition to be succinct and clear – hallmarks of a good journalist – guide him in this matter.
By contrast, Arthur DeJong, who is also wise beyond his years, is all over the map and clearly struggling with what I consider to be the threshold question. In his defense, Arthur’s title is Manager of Mountain Planning and Environmental Resources, a title that fills up one entire side of a standard business card and ends in "Cont’d, PTO". Arthur’s struggle is my struggle. I feel his pain.
To describe the business he’s in, Arthur chooses terms like "mountain resort industry" or "industry" when he wants to be brief, and "skiing and riding" to tag the basic activity. He uses "mountain enthusiasts", "users" and "guests" to, well, to underscore the fact that even the smartest thinkers in the biz aren’t really sure what to call the people who, collectively, take part in it.
But as difficult and important as the question of what we call what we do is, even it pales in comparison to the question WhisComb is trying to grapple with, to wit, whither the future?
Personally, I don’t know why everyone doesn’t ski. Conversely, I don’t know why anyone skis. I know why I ski but I’m not entirely sure how I managed to arrive here. I’ve never taken part in a more difficult, frustrating, expensive, uncomfortable, confusing, infuriating, rewarding, life-affirming, physically debilitating, potentially deadly sport and quite frankly, I can’t think of another one that even comes close to blending all those elements into one attractive package and whose participants cover the span of human existence from very young to very old.
I know what got me started. My Perfect Partner and sister shamed me into giving skiing a try.
I know what hooked me. Adrenaline. I was already hooked on mountains, having grown up within sight of them and spent an inordinate amount of time hiking, climbing and generally wandering in them.
But I know how tenuous my first experience on skis was and if it hadn’t been for that adrenaline junkie twist in my DNA, the hook never would have set. I’d have disowned both my Perfect Partner and my sister and I might still be living a miserable existence in some city and spending my free time pouring over travel brochures seeking an escape.
Instead, I’m a ski bum. I’ve given up a lucrative career, wasted my education, disappointed my parents, left my friends scratching their heads wondering what’s wrong with me, and generally turned my back on everything the rest of modern, North American society considers proper, goal-oriented behaviour.
As such, I feel almost over-qualified to offer my own advice to BlackLer in their quest to keep the skier market from drying up faster than global warming renders the question moot. Here are the key problems I think they need to solve.
Ski Music
: There aren’t any songs about skiing. There are lots of songs about surfing, cars, girls, sailing, lying on the beach, baseball, and other activities, but there aren’t any songs about skiing. I think if Intrawest can afford to pay Joe a million five for a bonus they ought to be able to throw a couple thou Guitar Doug’s way to put together a CD of ski music.Ski Boots
: If there’s any single chink in the armour of skiing worse than boots, I’ve yet to discover it. Ski boots suck! They’re under-engineered, over-priced and don’t fit any human foot yet conceived. And if the idea of renting bowling shoes makes you squeamish – admit it; it does – you don’t even want to think about what might be growing in dark, moist, well-used, ill-fitting rental boots. I’d definitely be working on solving this problem if I was interested in the future of skiing.Cost
: I think off-shore sailing might be the only sport that makes skiing seem reasonable, costwise. You drop a grand for skis and bindings, half that or better for boots designed by a sadistic podiatrist, that much again for basic outerwear, a couple of hundred a night for a place to stay, ten bucks for a burger and fries and $70 to stand in line and wait for a lift. It’s a wonder anyone skis.Crowds
: Every time I hear someone in a position of authority at the mountain say, "The crowds aren’t too bad today." I wonder what they’ve been smoking. Compared to what? A rock festival?Image
: Gotta lay this one right on the doorstep of the ski media. If an alien scanned the available publications dealing with skiing, he’d come away with the impression skiing was all about jumping off cliffs, fashion, celebrities and vacuous hedonism. Well, on second thought, maybe they’re not too far off the mark. But let’s be honest, Warren Miller’s old films used to make skiing seem like fun. Sexy, glamourous, ridiculous fun. Today’s TimeLifeWarnerAOL Warren Miller films make skiing seem like a sport for people with an overdeveloped death wish.Personally, I’m glad WB is pondering the future of skiing. Well, actually I’m glad they are and I’m not. I’m just going skiing… in the rain… in painful boots…. Go figure.
